


The Agony of An Instant

by Corycides



Series: 100 Fics in 100 Days [24]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: 100 Fics in 100 Days, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A loss makes Miles wonder if he's burned all his bridges...or can he still find one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Agony of An Instant

A bonfire roared in the middle of camp, green wood spitting up sparks that faded into the dark, and bottles of rotgut whisky passed from hand to hand around it. Someone was singing American Pie in a rough, ruined voice and Charlie, pink from heat and booze, had deposited herself in couldn't-believe-his-luck Jason's lap.

They had plenty to celebrate. Miles leant back against a tree and took a swig from the bottle he wasn't sharing. He licked the burn of it from his lips and lifted his bottle in a mute salute.

'The general's dead,' he muttered, words rough in his throat. 'Long live the resistance.'

Bass was dead. 

That called for another drink. He swigged from the bottle and wished he'd not spent so many years building up a tolerance for this shit. By the time he was drunk enough, he'd be spitting blood. Drunk enough for what though? He hadn't quite decided.

Footsteps crunched on dry leaves. Miles took a deep breath and smelled gunpowder, smoke and too much lilac perfume. 

'Nora,' he said. 

She laughed and burrowed under his arm, her nose cold against his neck and breath warm. She held up a bottle with an actual printed label and smiled at him, eyes crinkling. 'I've been saving this for a special occasion.'

Bass was dead, and Nora had killed him.

He took the bottle off her, he was...whatever he was, that wasn't a reason to waste good booze. 'Go away.'

Her smile wobbled and made a comeback, pinned up uncertainly at the corners. 'Miles? We won. You can feel-'

'He was my best friend,' Miles said bitterly, pushing himself off the tree.

'You tried to kill him,' Nora said. He walked away from her and she yelled at his back. 'You tried to kill him first!'

He found another tree and opened Nora's bottle, drinking until he could close his eyes without seeing Bass' face. 'You're dyin', I'm dyin'' It had been a good plan, being the one left behind sucked.

****

Drunk people don't put up much off a fight. The militia swept through the rebel encampment like a swarm of locusts, brutal and efficient. The few high-value assets – the Mathesons, Neville's boy – were grabbed in the first pass. Everyone else was a viable target. 2/3 of the Resistance's top echelon's died before the militia even dismounted.

Jeremy hummed American Pie as he executed rebels, only pausing to reload; Tom, face stonily impassive, dragged his son away from the Matheson girl and put him in a cart. A re-education camp had been the closest to mercy Julia had been able to beg from him. The girl was screaming for him – then she saw Bass. Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at him with those ridiculously huge lemur eyes.

He dismounted, tossing the reins to a bright-eyed recruit, and walked over. Rachel looked exhausted, but unsurprised. He thought, meeting her dispirited blue eyes, that he had finally broken her.

'You're dead,' Charlie whispered her objection.

'Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,' Bass said pleasantly. The girl just looked confused, but Rachel gave a weary snort. He ran his thumb along his blister-raw jaw. 'Although you did get closer than planned. Where's Miles.'

She pressed her lips tight together and glared at him. 

'You will tell me eventually,' he assured her, voice dropping a little. 

Charlie's mouth twitched into a grim smile. 'Time enough for him to get away,' she said.

Brave girl. After some re-education she'd either be a brave dead girl or a very good soldier. He glanced at Rachel and raised an eyebrow. She could be brave, but not for Miles. Her throat worked as she swallowed, weighing her options.

'He didn't feel like celebrating,' she said, pointing with her chin. Charlie blurted out 'Mom-' in protest, but a prudently gloved hand muffled her before she could argue more. 'He was drinking alone, over there in the trees.'

****

Waking up Miles felt less like shit like he'd expected, smelt better too. He squinted his eyes open and groaned as the light stabbed viciously into his pupils. When he tried to throw his arm over his face the rattle-jerk of cuffs pulled his arm short. 

'You're a mess, Miles,' Bass commented coolly.

Miles blinked his eyes into adjusting to the lights and stared at – what? Another hallucination? Bad booze instead of sewer gas? Although he thought a hallucination would look better. Bass' face was a mess of bruise and blister and Miles could see the bulk of bandages under his shirt.

The hallucination would be smiling too, not staring at him like a problem it didn't want to tackle.

'Bass?' he checked, voice cracking.

'I had to have you sluiced down.' Bass poured himself a whiskey to wash down two hoarded painkillers, grimacing at the taste. 'I think a badger pissed on you.'

'You're not dead,' Miles said, grinning till his face hurt.

'Under the circumstances,' Bass said. 'Maybe you shouldn't be so happy about that?'

Miles closed his eyes. 'Charlie?'

He could see Bass considering cruelty and braced himself. Instead... 'She's fine. For now.'

'Guarantee of my good behaviour?' Miles asked, shaking his cuffed wrist. No answer. He opened his eyes and looked at Bass who was staring into his drink. 'Bass?'

'We might be past that, Miles,' Bass said. 'Even Jeremy wants you dead.'

That stung a little. Willing to kill him sure, he'd not expect any less, but wanting him dead? He shouldn't care, but...

'Three strikes, Miles,' Bass pointed out. 'Three times you tried to kill, and you got closer every time.'

He shifted in the bed in protest. 'I wouldn't have used a bomb-'

Bass smashed the glass down. 'She wouldn't have got close enough to try, if you'd not told her-told her where my parents were buried.'

It hadn't been for that. He'd been talking about before, about how they'd all been before it went wrong. But he supposed he'd known, on some level, that he'd hoped Nora would do what he couldn't. Then he could blame her.

'She's dead by the way,' Bass said calmly.

Miles took a deep breath and let it out. 'I figured,' he said. 'She thought we'd won.'

This time Bass gave in to the urge to put the boot in. 'She was fucking some guy when we caught her.'

'Worse ways to go,' Miles said. He hoped she'd not known what hit her. There was a chance she might not have. Once Bass got angry he was more into salting and burning than playing his enemies. It had been Miles who was cruel. 'So, if you're going to kill me, what's the bath and bed about.'

Bass dragged a chair over and sat down, propping his feet on the end of the bed. 'Maybe I wanted to say goodbye,' he said. 'Or maybe I wanted everyone to see I had the balls to kill you.'

'Maybe you don't want to kill me?' Miles suggested. 

A smile curved Bass' mouth for the first time and he shook his head. 'You know I don't want to, Miles,' he said. 'But I can't have you back and I can't let you go, you're too dangerous. So what other options do I have?'

Miles used the cuffs to pull himself into a sitting position, ignoring the bite of metal against his wrists. He gave Bass his best grin. 'How long have I got to come up with a fix.'

'Three days,' Bass said after a pause. 'I'll miss you, Miles.'

Miles leant his head back and thought about the empty pit that opened inside when he thought Bass was dead. It had been like gutting his whole life, the loss of 30 years of shared stuff – good and bad. 

'You've no idea.'

***

Two days passed and Miles had nothing. In the end, it was Charlie who gave him the idea. When they made camp for the night, Bass let him visit her. She had a bruise the shape of a boot on her face from trying to escape, but no-one had hurt her otherwise. Not physically. She clung to him, fingers digging into the nape of his neck, as her guard tried to drag her loose.

'I can't go back,' she whispered, choking on the words. 'Not if I know you're not coming.'

The guard cuffed her around the back of the head. It wasn't particularly vicious, the same rough treatment any recruit would get, but Miles still had to struggle to control himself. Although he was hardly a danger to anyhow, cuffed and hobbled.

'Stupid kid,' the guard muttered, man-handling her back onto the cart and cuffing her. 'Don't know why the General gives a damn.'

Charlie snuffled and wiped her face on her shoulder, glaring with big, water-blue eyes. The same colour as Ben, shades lighter than her mom, but who here knew Ben didn't have the same mud-brown eyes as his little brother?

Back in the tent he paced, legs aching from the weight of the cuffs, until Bass came back. 

'She's your kid,' he blurted the idea immediately. 'Or Danny. Fuck, both of them.'

Bass blinked at him. 'How's that help you.'

'You wanted them safe, you sent me to keep them safe. Our enmity was a lie so I could get close to my brother again.'

An eyebrow went up, creasing Bass' brow. 'That's a bit far-fetched.'

'You kept Rachel a prisoner in a suite of private rooms for years,' Miles pointed out. 'People are probably assuming some sick, sexual component to that. It'll work, Bass.'

It took a long minute, but finally Bass nodded. 'Maybe.'


End file.
